Spot the Difference
by Miss Paige
Summary: After an apocalyptic end to the Second Wizarding War, the trio abandon their world for another. As they acclimatise to this different world new challenges, people and situations are thrust upon them as the reinitialize their seemingly never ending fight against Voldemort, and hope for a happier ending for this world than the one they left behind. AU, HPxHGxRW
1. Prologue

**AN: I do not own Harry Potter or any other copyrighted product/item/franchise mentioned throughout the entirety of this fanfiction and this disclaimer stands for the whole piece of writing.**

**This is my first Harry Potter fic so reviews are very welcome. The main pairing in this story will be between HarryxHermionexRon, so if you don't like that don't read. I also don't plan on writing any 'adult scenes', as I don't believe myself capable of doing that justice and believe my story is in dire need of that content.**

**For the purpose of this story everything goes according to canon until the Battle of Hogwarts, where everything goes out of control and descends into guerrilla warfare. Ultimately this leaves the British Wizarding community decimated and there is nothing left. I realise that this has been done before and if I am perceived to be plagiarising please tell me and I will do my utmost to rectify it – I can only say that if this occurs it is purely because I have been heavily influenced by the many fantastic writers on this website. **

**~Prolouge~**

A gentle night breeze fluttered the curtain, causing the moonlight to dance hauntingly around the room and over the group of three battle scarred youths at its centre, past cuts glittering in the silver light. Discarded newspapers, disturbed by the wind, joined the dance, adding music of its own, bearing the visage of death and destruction – all that this world had left. The two brunettes and the redhead stood engaged in an unmoving three-way embrace at the centre of the room, surrounded by runes and symbols etched in blood and gold; a macabre homage to their former house, one that they were leaving together and forever, as it had left them.

The slight caressing of each other was the only movement they made as they reaffirmed their connection to each other. That they were holding a conversation would have been unnoticeable to any outside observer. Not much was said; Just a fluid exchange of feelings and memories, as they prepared for the next chapter of their lives. One that no amount of research could predict for certain. One that they pinned all the hope in their desperate lives upon.

They seemed to embrace harder for a moment as the clock struck 12 - the witching hour. But before any observer could be sure, they vanished in shock of light. The runes vanishing with them.

The papers continued to flutter in the waning light of the moon. The moving faces of the dead the only witness to what had taken place. Silence returned to the world once more, as the clocks chimes echoed into nonexistence.


	2. Chapter 1 - Awakening

**~Chapter One: Awakening~ **

Harry Potter awoke quickly to a brisk July morning with a sense of confusion quickly morphing to elation. It had worked. All their months of planning had paid off, though with Hermione involved one tended to believe any problem could be solved with research and an expedition to the library. The wry smile conjured by this line of thought promptly vanished as the expected presence of Ron and Hermione in his mind was not found. Worry and panic coursed through him as he quickly assessed what could have caused this stark absence.

With his negativity not being staunched by the others presence he almost instantaneously began attributing it to their deaths or being flung off to different dimensions. Whilst he was busy processing this emotional and mental anguish, he was cautiously and thoroughly scanning his surroundings for any sign of danger or reason for trepidation, simultaneously subtly locating his wand in order to ward of the perceived danger. Intellectually, he knew he could fell the most fearsome foes with wandless magic, but as he was in an undisclosed situation he was unwilling to demonstrate any hither to unknown secrets to any watchers. Thankfully spotting his wand on the dresser, and stowed it in his sleeve.

He appeared to be in a wizarding boy's bedroom, if the collection of Quidditch posters combined with the blue walls, was anything to go on. It made further sense as Harry took the time to assess himself, once the absence of danger was established, he appeared to be fourteen again judging by his height and the worn third year books stacked beside the desk. Looking at his exposed hands and arms, the distinct lack of scars was the first thing to register with him. On impulse, his hand shot to his forehead, to feel for the familiar lightening scar that had haunted him for the last nineteen years of his life. A broad grin illuminating his façade as it became apparent that it was absent. He was no longer the boy-who-lived.

If only Hermione and Ron were here to share his excitement.

A framed picture on the wall caught his attention – what was obviously a younger him stood beside his parents, who looked older than in any other photo he had seen them in. Adding to the mystifying image was the inclusion of two girls, one taking almost completely after his father and seemingly older than Harry and the other being the splitting image of his mother and seemed to be the same age of Harry. This new discovery had multiple scenarios and implications resulting from this information whirling around his mind.

Transfixed as he was with the image, it was hardly surprising that the knock on his door completely took him by surprise

"Harry dear, wake-up it's time for breakfast," a soft feminine voice, so far removed from the ritual screaming of his aunt Petunia, yet oddly similar; came through the door, "If you're not down in five I'll give your father free reign!" it continued with a slight chuckle. It was purely shock preventing Harry from launching into a magic tirade and bringing down the door and the woman behind it before he thought the situation through.

It would be better to go along with the situation for now, and gather intelligence on his surrounding before acting.

"Coming," Harry answered, realising the woman, who ever she was, was still outside his door. This seemed to appease her as she left, her footsteps echoing down the hall; as Harry steeled himself to leave the room.

**0o0o0o0o0**

A similar state of affairs was taking place in London at the Granger household. Hermione had woken with a start. A quick assessment of her surroundings placed her in her childhood bedroom, July 1994 if the calendar on the wall was accurate. A brief smile lit her young features as she soaked in the triumph of getting the ritual correct, her scholar mind filing away the added consequence of seemingly ending up back in time as well as in an alternate universe.

Her pleasant mood came crumbling down around her as she realised the usual constant presence of Ron and Harry in her mind was missing. In response to her emotional and mental state collapsing around her, she instantly reverted to her rational and detached persona – the one that had saved their lives so many times in the past.

Logically she should have expected that their mental connection would not survive their journey through the space time continuum. It had been enough of a scholarly nightmare to get the correct equations to remove their personalities and memories to inhabit their bodies in a different stream of reality, without trying to work out how to transfer the bond as well. They would have to meet up somewhere and establish what their next move would be.

The emotional side of her mind, hidden behind the shield of objectivity, longed to be with her boys again. And was ruthlessly cursing the limitations that came along with the younger body she had inhabited – the ones her boys would also be in. It would be ages before they could continue the physical side of their relationship. Whilst her emotional side was lamenting the loss of her lovers, the rational side was beginning to sort through her things in search of her wand.

Cursing her younger self for not being more prepared, as she sorted through her trunk and moved onto the shelving and draws, a knock startled her out of her silent cursing as she quickly spun around to face any assailant coming her way. It was not an assailant.

"Wake up sweetheart," the soft voice of her mother said, "Don't lie about all day, there's plenty to do and I want you and Martha to go and pick up the shopping in an hour."

Martha? Who was Martha? About from the inclusion of the name, everything else was exactly who she remembered being woken by her mother during the holidays. This in itself brought a painful lump in her throat and tears welling to her eyes. She hadn't prepared for this. Why hadn't she prepared for this? It was stupid not to. Wasn't the whole point of skipping dimensions to see their loved ones again? To save them if possible? And here she was having a breakdown at the mere sound of her mother's voice.

Like Harry, Hermione took a moment to compose herself, before answering as calmly as possible; trying her hardest for the emotion not to show in her voice.

"I'll be down in a minute."

**0o0o0o0o0**

The Burrow was much the same as it was in any other world, before its destruction of course. Even at 7 in the morning, the crooked house was bustling with noise and activity as its occupants prepared for the day. In the highest room of the rickety house, one Ronald Weasley bolted upright. Unlike his two lovers he had not taught himself to wake up without showing it to any watchers – subtly was not his strong point, nor would it ever be. Like the other two, he was immediately grateful for their success, and almost instantaneously be grieved by the lack of mental connection.

That connection had been the only reason for them staying sane throughout the war and its repercussions; and from a strategic standpoint it would allow them to meet up with more ease than was currently available to them.

By nature Ron was the most relaxed about any situation. He didn't overanalyse like Hermione or forever jump to the worst conclusion like Harry; he just calmly observed and strategized the best way out of the situation. This by no means meant that he didn't enjoy a fight or was always a master of his infamous Weasley temper, but he added a different viewpoint of the situation and tried his hardest to keep the other two level headed and on task.

Aside from the sheer intimacy and familiarity of the connection, Ron missed the other inputs as he was clearly in need of being told how to cope with this situation. He appeared to be in his room, if the eye burning amount of orange was anything to go by. It also happened that he had watched in abject horror as this very house was destroyed. Being here was conflicting heavily on what he believed to be the truth and damaging his perceptions of the world.

Could it have been one horrible nightmare? On one level he greatly wished that to be true, for that death and destruction to be a figment of his imagination. But on another, he realised it could not be a dream. His reactions and memories would not be so clear if it had just been a haunting dream.

Only one thing was clear in Ron's mind as he grabbed his wand and headed down stairs, answering his mother's yells of breakfast being served. And that was that his first objective was to locate Harry and Hermione, and until then he would have to put up a façade of innocence and treat it as a fact finding mission.


	3. Chapter 2 - Meetings

**AN: I apologise now for my appalling writing of dialogue, I've never been good at it and can only hope to improve. For this reason however I will try to avoid it as much as possible if only to make it easier to read. I must also point out now that I am not a professional writer and as such I shouldn't be expected to be amazing and I am writing this story for fun, I can only hope it brings you enjoyment as well.**

**Thank you for reading and your time and reviews are appreciated. **

**~Chapter Two – Meetings~**

It was with conflicting emotions that Harry walked down the hall. As he was soaking everything up a bugging sense of familiarity encroached upon his subconscious. If the photos of what must be himself and sisters, judging by the myriad of poses, were removed he was left with scenery that was eerily familiar. A quick glance out on to the grounds from one of the Victorian style windows confirmed it.

He was in Potter manor.

Memories of the strategic meetings and fear shared amongst those surviving assaulted him. A part of him wondered if it would be too theatrical to collapse to the floor as an outward show of the effect it was having on his mentality. Composing himself he continued the well-known route to the kitchen, where he assumed breakfast would be.

He was not prepared for what awaited him there.

The smell of bacon and eggs permeated the room as his mother, for that is the only person it could be, was happily humming to herself as she served up breakfast for five. Chatting incessantly from the table was what appeared to be the redheaded sister, barely pausing for breath as she excitedly retold some incident or another to a bemused version of the father he had previously only seen in photos. Upon his entering the room, the man who appeared to be James looked up with a cheeky grin.

"Still in your pjs huh Pronglet," he called out with some glee, an almost maliciously teasing tone lacing his words. Harry's inability to counter this was covered by his would be mother, quickly butting in.

"Leave him alone James," she momentarily glared at the man before redirecting her soft gaze upon Harry, "Breakfast is ready sweetie, take a seat," she continued and gently, almost as if he was incapable of thinking or acting on his own accord, directed him to a seat and kissed his forehead. Harry felt completely out of his depth, and longed more than ever for the mental bond with his lovers to return. They knew about family dynamics worked, well, more than he did anyway.

He was feeling both completely surrounded and isolated at the same time. It had been years since he was out of his depth and even longer since he didn't have the presence of either Ron or Hermione with him in some form. Expectant looks were being directed at him by the girl assumed to be his sister and his father, floundering slightly settling for muttering thanks to his 'mother' as she placed breakfast in front of him. This seemed to appease them, as the girl resumed her talking, her eyes glinting with happiness and innocence.

As Harry sat and observed the goings on, he only became more and more sure that he had to find his lovers. Not even the comforting smell of bacon and eggs could settle him down, as he started to shut down and allow his battle leader persona to come forward and navigate through this unknown situation.

The rendezvous point was where the others would head, if they were able. Now Harry just had to figure out how to get to the Kew gardens without being followed or coming under suspicion. He would have to act quickly or risk missing them but yet would have to act carefully so as to stop his 'family' from following him or growing suspicious in case it was decided that they stayed with them until an alternative could be arranged.

Harry was so deep in his reverie and planning that the voice of Lily caused him to jump, and only just managed to stop himself reacting violently.

"Harry dear, did you see Hazel on your way down?" she inquired gently; Harry would comfortably bet that this was the other sister's name, but opted for the quiet reply by shaking his head. This seemed to irritate James but was silenced by a look from his mother; the redheaded girl next to him scowling at Harry, seemingly for taking the attention away from herself.

'I need to get out of here,' Harry thought to himself, as the scene continued to not add up in his mind.

0o0o0o0o0

Hermione was also finding it difficult to cope in her own kitchen, for other reasons entirely. Her mind was simply failing to consolidate the fact that her parents were there; as happy as they had ever been, carrying out the usual daily routine. Not swinging from the ruins of this very house, dead, like the last time she had laid eyes on them.

It took all of her inner strength to prevent the imminent breakdown and save it for when she was alone.

Martha, it just so happened, was her sister. This did not help Hermione one iota.

All her life her parents, her real ones that is, had wanted a second child, but as years went by they decided to be thankful for the one child they had had. The attention and the doting had not necessarily been a bad thing, but when she went to Hogwarts it had caused her parents to withdraw. They could no longer relate to their baby girl, no matter how much they wanted to. She had seen the pain in their eyes grow each time she saw them and their letters lost their continual question on what a magical school was like as it sunk in that they could not truly understand.

Her sister was a muggle. She also hated magic. This was evident from almost the moment they had met in the hall.

"Why don't you just go back to your school, Freak," Martha had hissed under her breath; her brown eyes, so similar to Hermione's own, sparkling with repressed anger. It was also clear that Martha was not simply a spiteful girl as she talked happily with her parents, with any glares covertly done behind their backs. Hermione suddenly had a new found empathy for what Harry's mother had gone through.

She was sure that her parents could not be oblivious to this behaviour, and it rekindled her old insecurities about not being what her parents had wanted in her old life. Observing this version of her family actual helped overcome this, as the longer she watched the clearer it became that these were not her parents. She couldn't say what it was but something was off about their whole character. They were imposters of her family, her real family was dead.

The entire situation was off. The interior of the majority of the house was exactly how she remembered it, baring the influence of the added sister. Yet her room itself denoted that she was very different here. There were no photos of Harry, Ron and herself displayed around the room, in fact only the trunk in the corner of her room evidenced that she went to Hogwarts (thankfully, upon inspection it bared evidence of her being sorted into Gryffindor). Her room instead was covered in quaint girly accessories and motivational posters, the whole affair being thoroughly impractical.

Like Harry she was reverting back to her crisis persona, where all inhibiting emotion was removed, allowing her to focus on the task at hand in a clear and logical manner. As she calmly ate the dentist approved breakfast, she formulated a plan of action. First step was to get to Kew gardens, where surely the boys would be headed. It had been a common rendezvous point in the past owing to its muggle nature and thus inconsequentiality to Death Eaters – they had typically been drawn to busy market squares and places that would cause the most damage and terror.

How to get there was the next major issue. If her parents here were anything like the ones in her past life, they would be hesitant to let her wander off into the world without a clear itinerary of where she was going and how long she would be – neither of which she would be happily disclosing or have a clear answer to provide. The shopping trip with Martha did offer some opportunity. If the girl hated her as much as she seemed to she would either be happy for Hermione to wander of on her own, the other likely alternative being an instant betrayal and grounding it Hermione's future – either way it would be worth it to establish the safety, position and future plans of her partners.

She would also like to do at least some minimal research on current affairs and establish where they stood in the grand scheme of things. If things were the same as before in the magical world they could easily work with that, knowing the future could lead to a substantial reduction in deaths, at the same time it could lead to something even more cataclysmic. She allowed herself a wry smile at this thought, how anything could be worse than last time she had no idea. Alternatively, things could be entirely different, making it difficult to assess what their next course of action would be but ideally would mean a happier future for them all. The way she saw it, their greatest immediate problem was to go unnoticed until they had all agreed that they come forward about their true identities.

As she rinsed her plate she gazed into the back garden, temporarily transfixed. It was the same, if not better, than what her memories conjured of the idyllic childhood she had had before magic, danger and war had flooded into her mind and existence. For the first time she wondered, even though she was positive she would never forget, perhaps she could move on from the horrific events which had plagued her life this last five years.

It was a determined smile which danced across her feature that she added the next step to her plan. Make sure we recover and live out the life ought to have.

0o0o0o0o0

This was not Ron Weasley's day. Having recovered from the shock of being in his childhood once more, he had – quite bravely in his opinion – answered the summoning of a yelling Molly Weasley. It was at this point that everything went pear shaped.

It appeared that Fred and George had multiplied to Fred, George and Eric – the only different name that appeared on his mother's clock (which coincidently showed none of them pointing to mortal peril, a position it had barely moved from in the last few years of its previous existence). And as if balancing this, Percy didn't appear to exist at all. Being triplets seemed to make the relationship between the three even more exclusive then it had been when there was only two of them, resulting in Ron being disregarded even more so than in his previous life. Amazingly, he felt grateful for this ostracism.

While Ron was of course appreciative that his family was once again alive and that his childhood home was restored, on deeper levels he resented it. These people were intrinsically different to those which he had watched die. These people did not know the horrors of that war. They had not fought alongside him.

And he envied them for that.

They retained an innocence that everyone he knew had irrevocably lost. They were blissfully oblivious to the war which may or may not erupt in a mere view years. Operating on auto-pilot, he grabbed food of the platters set on the table; ingrained mannerisms guiding actions of a routine that he hadn't participated in since the outbreak of war, five years ago in his own personal timeline.

As the family of Weasleys chattered amongst themselves about their daily affairs, Ron found his mind plunging into warrior mode, keeping tabs on everything around him whilst assessing the situation for its strategic advantage. It quickly became clear to him that he would need the help of his lovers to come up with the whole picture and a proper plan of attack.

His lack of inclusion in this version of his family would certainly lead to an easy get away to Kew gardens, where he was sure the others would head as soon as they were able. With any luck, his absence may not even be noticed.

A wry grin spread across his face as he once again enjoyed a meal cooked by his mum, a luxury he thought he would never experience again, and relished in the thought of being reunited and reinstating his mental connection to his lovers in the near future.


	4. Chapter 3 – Rendezvous

**Chapter 3 – Rendezvous **

It was with a strange sense of trepidation and confidence that the three approached a copse of trees to the east end of temperate house, the place they had predicted each other would head. Hermione arrived first, after successfully removing herself from the company of her sister, something which was not nearly as challenging as she thought it would be; she had flagged down the Knight Bus and one jolting ride and brisk walk later here she was. With nothing to do but wait, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the others to arrive.

Within ten minutes of this she was already allowing paranoia too invade her mind, and even her scolding that she was being irrational did not abate it. As she paced in the confined space, the sight of glitter in her peripheral vision caused her to pause, immediately reassessing the area for danger. It was her nails. Her now perfectly manicured and bejewelled nails sparkling in the dim light that filtered through the leave and branches. The little pink, ornate flowers on baby blue background seemed almost planned for her visit here, the sheer ludicrously of this caused her to stifle a laugh, the thought of being discovered quenching her laughter before she had conscience thought. Whilst thoroughly inappropriate the decorated nails did bring to life something in her she hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope.

For if this version of her was able to indulge in such vain pursuits then surely this was a safe place. A place where she may be able to not constantly watch her back, where targets were no longer on their backs, where there was no longer a duty or expectation to fight. She wondered how they would cope with that. They hadn't made any plans on what they would do upon entering the new universe. There were simply too many variables. As well as a sheer desperation to get away from where they were, nothing could be as bad as staying in the ruins of their world. A place they had seen deteriorate before their eyes, and played a part in destroying, if they were completely honest with themselves. And of course, they had had their mind-link at the time and didn't even factor in losing it, a mistake which Hermione was now berating herself for.

'The boys would still be up for 1a fight,' she thought to herself, because approve of it or not, they had been fighting for the last five years of their lives, training for it for longer, and old habits die hard. Added to that was Harry's superhero complex, he would go in running at even the hint of danger to an innocent or if even an inkling of Death Eaters existing reaches him, Ron being the dutiful best friend and lover that he was would follow him in; Hermione would either watch from afar protecting them through Intel or fighting alongside them. She preferred to fight alongside them, but despite her being just as capable as her boys, they were prone to trying to protect her on the battlefield – putting themselves in further, unnecessary danger. It was both flattering and infuriating.

She was startled from her reverie by soft male voices and soft footsteps crunching leaves underfoot heading in her direction. Despite her young, untrained body, Hermione twisted around into a long practised defensive, her wand slipping agilely from her makeshift arm holster into her hand. As they approached the voices began to sound familiar, yet remained indistinctive until they came into view, and what appeared to be a young Ron and Harry walking hand in hand into view.

They, like her, took on a defensive pose, but she could see her own relief at seeing them reflected in their eyes. Yet no amount relief will have them abandon protocol which has been drummed into them for years and proved to be lifesaving on numerous occasions.

"What's my animagus form?" Hermione questions them after a moment of soaking up their appearance.

"Anuria, a barn owl with feathers that match your hair," Harry answers correctly, but before any of them move out of their defensive stances Ron asks her his security question.

"How did we first meet?" he inquires.

"I came into your carriage on the Hogwarts express at the start of our first year; I was looking for Neville's toad, Trevor," a wry smile glancing across her features as she remembers an easier time. All pretence of formality and wariness vanished in a single moment as the three converge on each other in a three way hug. Very similar to the last one they shared on the world that they were born in. Only this time the scene was lit with mid-morning sun and the smell of flowers and life permeated the air as they reassured themselves of the wellbeing of each other and shared the occasional chaste kiss.

Hermione broke the tranquil scene first, though she did not let go of ether of them, unwilling to be without their physical presence for a moment more than necessary.

"How come you two arrived together?" she asked a shade jealous that they had been reunited quicker than her.

"Quirk of fate," Harry shrugged, "I stepped out of the floo mere seconds before Ron came through, and we decided to make our way here together."

"It's so strange, don't you think," Ron added, "seeing everything whole and not in smoking ruins, I wonder how long that'll last?"

"Well, from what I gathered from the few books on recent magical history and Daily Prophets I had at home, I think this timeline is much the same," Hermione confidently answered, easily slipping into the role of providing pertinent information; a job she'd been doing for years, "Events since Halloween 1981 have been much the same, bar the fact that Neville Longbottom was declared the Boy-Who-Lived. Personally I have some changes to my family, which could mean there are many different people strolling around which weren't here last time."

"Yeah, my parents are alive here," Harry said suddenly serious as he allowed for the implications of these words to sink in, "And I kind of expected it to be Neville once I ascertained that neither of my sisters had the scar." The revelation of the size Harry's family wasn't lost on is companions as they drew him in closer for comfort, here was the family he had always longed for, but he didn't know them.

"My family's changed to," Ron interjected gruffly, or as close to his previous gruffness as his unbroken voice could achieve, "Percy simply doesn't exist," shock emanated from the group, "but the twins are now triplets, still identical painfully enough" he continued with a sigh. The concept of three Weasley twins was hard to comprehend. The sheer magnitude of the mayhem they would now be capable of unleashing was daunting even to the battle hardened youths.

Sitting down as one they continued to exchange their observations of the lives here they had picked up in the last few hours. It was established that Martha was in fact one year younger than Hermione, and a muggle terrified of magic; resulting in her hating Hermione. Eric position in the Weasley family was easily established, but his influence on the dynamics hard to pin-point. The survival of Lily and James Potter was also a point of confusion, as to the influence that had on the wizarding world no one could really tell. Viola, the red headed girl at breakfast, was determined to be Harry's twin sister, owing to the large array of photos taken at matching birthday cakes and clothes, the difference only found in colouring and style as they grew. Hazel was determined to be an older sister by two years, she could be of some usefulness, if the relationship between her and Harry worked in their favour.

Categorising new and missing people into the possible implications they could have was tremendously difficult as they had no true way to separate out what other impacts could have arisen due to their existence or inexistence. Abandoning this seemingly useless thread of action, they decided to just go with the flow, only interfering when they were sure of events or that they would have a positive effect. Absolving this issue wasn't the end of their problems however.

"So we're underage again, are we under the trace or has our mental age negated that?" Ron inquired.

"Well, I tried a simple summoning charm at home and received a letter moments later, so unfortunately it appears we are under that restriction," Hermione answered morosely, desperately wishing she could have reported the opposite, 'just another obstacle to overcome,' she thought glumly.

"But could we still preform the ritual to bring our mind link back?" Harry interjected, a slight trace of desperation and worry leaking into his voice.

"In theory I suppose…" Hermione trailed off, mentally going over the procedure and requirements of the aforementioned ritual. The boys stayed silent, recognising that interrupting now would only mean getting yelled at, and possibly hit. "Yes I think we could," Hermione said brightly after a few minutes, "there's no direct magic used through a wand and it's based primarily on occulmency and blood magic, both of which are hard for the ministry to pick up and would be considered too advanced for under aged witch or wizard to complete. It is quite likely that if they do pick up a trace, we will be long gone before they locate our position, but it may mean giving up the place as a safe spot."

With this she watched the expressions of joy, trepidation, calculation and determination slip across the boys' faces in varying intensities and order. Nods from both, however, determined that they would go through with it here and now and simply use other meeting points; this was of more long term importance.

Hermione quickly set about etching the required runes into the ground in the middle of their makeshift circle, grateful once again for her photographic memory. Whilst she was doing this, the boys looked around for something to cut their palms for the binding part of the ritual. A sharp rock a little way away was found suitable, and the two exchanged giddy smiles at the hope of part of their previous intimacy returning. Within fifteen minutes they were ready to begin – being constantly on the run and under threat had its advantages to improving efficiency.

They sat in the circle solemnly, cutting each palm and passing the stone clockwise around the circle. As Hermione cut her left palm and placed the stone on the ground, they grasped hands and began to chant. Within moments a soft silver glow emanated from their grasped hands and begun a complicated weaving pattern between the trio, as seconds ticked past, they felt the prior awareness of each other they had held previously return bit by bit. By the time the chanting had ended hey were fully aware of the emotions each was feeling, all of which was giddy happiness at the moment.

"How come I can't hear your thoughts?" Ron questioned, momentarily worried.

"Don't you remember? That won't develop for another few days, possibly weeks depending on our proximity and magical strength," Hermione supplied helpfully.

"Feeling each other's emotions are a lot better than nothing at all, at least now we can be sure that all of us are safe." Harry added, a comment met by fervent nods.

"As much as I hate to be the one pointing this out, we should head back to our houses before anyone's suspicions are raised," Hermione pointed out in her informative voice, failing to hide her morose feelings at this disclosure. Unfortunately no one could argue against that logic, and barely hiding tears they made their temporary farewells with quick hugs and kisses, departing in separate directions. All of them wondering, how they would be able to cope sleeping alone for the first time in five years.


	5. Chapter 4 - Dispute

**Chapter 4 – Dispute**

Frustration was Harry's initial feelings upon returning to Potter Manor, quickly he sent some positive emotions over the link to calm down the tensions he could feel building up in Ron and Hermione – he couldn't wait until the link was stronger. Upon his arrival he had been swamped in a hug by his mother, who seemed incapable of letting him go instead she kept checking him for injuries which weren't there and whispering assurances to him. Luckily for him, she had missed him arriving out of the fireplace and assumed he had simply waltzed in the front door.

"Now you know that you have to tell mummy when you leave the house, don't you?" she said in a voice more suited to talking to a five year old than a fourteen year old boy, it was horribly demeaning to Harry, who in reality was a seasoned soldier and general. If only she knew what had happened to those unwise enough to disrespect him in the past.

"Yes, mum. I'm sorry mum," Harry managed to say with enough faked sincerity to get her of his back. Thank god for the practise he had gotten in lying over the years. Momentarily appeased, Lily began another line of investigation, still not letting go of her only son.

"Where did you go? I've been looking everywhere for you, I was just about to call your father home from work," this it seemed was a threat of the highest order, judging by the look James had given him at breakfast he didn't doubt that a young boy would be afraid of this threat. Harry scuffed his feet on the floor and avoided eye contact as he thought up a reasonable excuse and internally berated himself for not coming up with a cover earlier – not even the trill of the meeting should have overrode his safety instincts.

"Just wandering around the grounds mum," Harry said smoothly, with just enough fear and guilt to seem chastised by the interrogation, "I never lost sight of the house and nothing happened, I just didn't want to bother you to ask permission". That ought to do it, he thought smugly to himself, now she'll have to bear some of the guilt herself.

"Oh, well you know you could never bother me, don't you dear?" she said quickly, almost guiltily, "I know you can take care of yourself, just tell me next time okay sweetie?" she cupped his face and planted a kiss on his forehead as soon as he nodded his assent. "Now there's washing on your bed to be put away, off you pop," and with that he was gently pushed towards the stairs.

Slightly angry now, though still sending reassuring feelings through the bond to assure his lovers, Harry wandered up the stairs and along to his room. He was quickly lost in the sea of photos spread along the walls and on small tables. They covered everything from each child as a new born to holiday snaps, playing around the manor to formal family portraits. There were even several featuring Sirius and what appeared to be his family and a few of Remus holding one of the numerous children in the Potter and Black families or just in the background, included in the family unit. Similar to all the photos however was the sheer joy emanating out of them. He did notice, however, that as the years went past his alternate-self seemed to draw into the background and the participation appeared forced.

Was there a reason to this? Was it the same one that would cause Lily to be so overbearing to him? Or could it be his personality being drained away to make room for the current Harry? This was worrying to Harry, simply because it was only now that he was realising that he was the intruded here. Not the Potter family, not the Weasley or Granger family – who appeared so similar yet entirely unlike the ones they had witnessed dying. Had he and his lovers be responsible for ending the lives of three innocent children, had they done the one thing they swore they would never do no matter how bad things got? It wasn't intended but did that diminish its horrendous repercussions?

He was not expecting Viola to break his reverie. Jumping around and slipping into an automatic defensive crouch at her cough, caused one of her perfectly sculptured ruby eyebrows to rise on her freckled forehead.

"Well, well, well," she said in simpering but surprisingly pleasant voice – she must have practised for hours to get the balance perfect, Harry thought snidely to himself, "What's got the loser so enthralled in photos, hmmm?" At his silence, she intensified her glare, "You wouldn't want me telling _mummy dearest_ that her precious baby isn't doing what his told, would you now? Oh, don't give me that look, as if I've ever missed an opportunity to see you dressed down," as she rolled her eyes, Harry decided he didn't like this sister much, though there was some potential that she could be useful.

"Don't ignore me squirt, you know I don't appreciate it. And anyway Dad says you should speak up for yourself, so you'd better start. Merlin knows you don't need any more attention than they already give you. I mean, you go missing for what an hour, and mum almost calls a nationwide search. Also I don't buy that crap of you just walking around the house, as if you'd do something like that," Viola continues on her monologue, from the way she barely pauses it clear she doesn't actually expect him to speak up to defend his actions or otherwise. Harry simply tuned her out and focused on reassuring Ron and Hermione he was fine through the bond as they had been growing worried due to the myriad of emotions he had been going through, combined with the problems they were facing blending in with their own families, but he was careful to listen to her ranting in case she said something of import.

So when she went to grab him it was not a surprise. What shocked him was that he couldn't block it as easily as he should have been able, resulting in him being pushed against the wall with an angry Viola in his face. Apparently she didn't enjoy being ignored and had a temper which matched her hair.

"Viola!" was the shocked disapproving gasp of their sister, as she rounded the corner, only to find this scene. Harry had yet to lay eyes on this member of his would be family; she was taller than Viola and he and had black curly hair, which cascaded gently down her back and framed her delicate face. Her brown eyes were wide and disapproving as she gazed upon Viola and himself, and her puckered pink lips promised retribution in the near future, "Well put him down," she added in a no nonsense tone as she purposely approached them, the tone suggesting that Viola was a bit dim for not following this action sooner.

Viola's hands abandoned their grip on his shirt as if he had spontaneously caught on fire, and Harry easily regained his footing. Internally rolling his eyes, he walked steadily to Hazel, who was gently beckoning him to her side – to get him out of the line of fire it appeared. Great, Harry thought snidely to himself, I go from having no mother to two in a single day. Yet he had to play along, he wouldn't be the one to put their mission in jeopardy this early. Once Harry was by her side and easily defendable Hazel began her tirade.

"I can't believe you! What do you think you're doing? And don't even start some bullshit about 'he started it' or some other trollop because you and I both know you're the one behind it," she spat in a deadly whisper, "It's got to stop, how do you ever expect him to speak out if you continually attack him. You're a disgraceful excuse for twin and a sister, one would have hoped you would want him to go back to his normal self, but no you just continually think about yourself. I think I'll take this information straight to dad when he gets home, I bet he'd love to know why his only son is unable to recover. Verbal abuse is one thing Viola, but pinning him up against the wall is completely inexcusable". Harry decided then and there never to get on the wrong side of this witch, the battlefield was one thing but an angry witch was a whole other danger in itself.

"That's a load of bull," Viola replies in a similar tone, but its ferocity is somewhat lacking, perhaps due to her inability to hold steady eye contact with her sister as her gaze continually flick to Harry, "He's damaged beyond repair, and you all just pour your attention and efforts into him, regardless of whether he show any response, whether or not they would be put to use better in other areas! For Merlin's sake no one even knows why he's so messed up! I bet his brain is defective or something, he's just a useless bag of bones" by the end she's getting quite impassioned and is running the risk of raising the ire of their mother, and there is little doubt of what side of the argument she would take. Hazel and Harry merely stare at her in shock.

"I think you should leave now Viola. Before I do something I regret," Hazel says calmly, yet her anger is quite evident and neither of her siblings doubted her words. As such, Viola did the smart thing and staunched of to her bedroom. The one Neville used, Harry dimly acknowledged.

"Are you alright?" Hazel questions, drawing him out of memories of a past that hasn't happened yet and probably never will. Her arm snaking around as she brings herself down far enough to look him in eyes, "Did she hurt you?" she continues in an insultingly clear voice at his lack of response, Hazel sighs. "Has she done that before? Would you tell me if she had?" Harry just shrugged in response as he truly did not know in that moment, or what response would get him out of the situation. "You know you can talk to me, I'd never hurt you".

"I know," Harry said softly. The grin lighting up her face made him feel successful, but did bring to question, what had happened to him to make his family react in such a way? Though despite these troubling thoughts, one positive thought cut through in Harry's mind – Hazel would likely be of much help in the trials ahead, if only he could ensure she was on his side.

**AN: This chapter kind of took on a life of its own and I didn't really express the points I was aiming for but it does deepen the characterisation of my OCs. On that topic tell me if you're happy with the OCs in this story as I know sometimes they can be horrible, your input will be taken into account as to how often they appear and what role they play, though I do not think that I will kill them off until much later if at all.**


	6. Chapter 5 - Correspondence

**AN: Hopefully confusion caused in the last chapter will be cleared up here, apologies for the dumping of information but it shall all become important soon enough; and you're getting two updates in one day so you shouldn't complain too much. Also in the upcoming chapter if you get confused Aurela = Hermione, Dagan = Ron and Primus = Harry; these names relate to their undercover/animagus names and are used as habit to avoid discovery upon interception as well as providing proof of authenticity for each other.**

**Chapter 5 – Correspondence **

The synchronisation in which the three completed the remainder of their day would have been unnerving if observed, thankfully for the trio no one was. Of course the re-established link had some role in this happenstance, but the threes continual company with each other over the last years they spent in their original world tied with the traumatic experiences they shared, meant that they were tied closer and at a deeper level than most people could ever wish for. It also happened that the time in which they selected was inconspicuous enough that it could be assumed they were simply heading to bed early and their absence wouldn't be noticeably missed by their families. As one they sat down at respective desks in their respective bedrooms at eight o'clock that night, to write a letter of their findings and opinions of what to do next.

_Dearest Aurela and Dagan,_

_I hope that everything on your end is going to plan, though I suppose we will know immediately if something highly detrimental occurs we will all be aware. For now I believe we should continue trying to blend into society and our respective households. Do you think it's possible to meet up at the Quidditch World Cup or at Diagon Ally at some stage? In addition to this I think we should restart our training regime as we are not as strong as we once were and have to regain this strength if we are to succeed, and I have no doubt that I will receive your feelings of despair as you read this Aurela, but it simply must be done. As soon as the world is at peace I promise you can quit training for as long as you desire. _

_Things at Potter Manor are much stranger than they appeared at first. Despite the occurrence of my parent surviving and having more children, there has also emerged an issue surrounding myself which no one appears to have known the answer to besides my other appears that an incident occurred several years ago, by my estimation, causing this version of myself to withdraw into themselves to the extent that he refuses to talk with people and has difficulty functioning – as surmised from Lily and Hazel's actions and words._

_Interestingly, it appears that this has caused resentment in the case of Viola who thinks it is all a show in order to remove attention from her, and James seems to regard his son with contempt, however some worry does appear to present, perhaps he is just overwhelmed by what has happened? I will have to investigate further to be sure. In addition to this, James is in the position of Head Auror in the Ministry and Sirius works closely with him in a similar positions; this of course, may be advantageous at a later point in our plans if events unfold the same way as last time. _

_Hazel may also be of some use as an older student, as she appears to have influence and the ability to stand up to people with the added bonus of being fiercely protective of her younger brother. However, we may lose whatever support we have there if she reacts negatively to discovering our true natures and goals. Viola at present appears to a lost cause as she is at loggerheads with myself; but perhaps if circumstances change._

_Sirius and his family are visiting tomorrow, the size of which I am yet unaware due to it being assumed knowledge in the household; however from photographs I have surmised that there are at least two children. Any further role they play in this world and by extension in our plans will have to be relayed at a later date._

_On another note, today it struck me that, inadvertently or not, we have eradicated the existence of our alternate selves. Have we crossed the line we always swore we wouldn't by destroying these innocents? Or will it balance out in the end if we achieve a semblance of peace and prosperity in this world, as we failed to in our last attempt. Can this act equivalent of murder be excused, as much as I hate to quote the old codger, for the Greater Good?_

_Thoughtfully and forever yours, _

_Primus _

**OoOoOoOoO**

_To my dearest Dagan and Primus,_

_I do so wish that you are having success in infiltrating your families, as I appear to be having no such luck on that part. Martha, my younger sister, appears to have some mystical power of veto in this version of the Granger household, or at least it seemed mystical until I bore witness to one of her tantrums. Due to her explicit hatred of myself I find myself ostracised when the family is congregated in an area, yet my parents seem almost as they used to when I'm with them by myself – I am sure that _my _parents would not have allowed such behaviour to occur._

_In a way it does work in my favour as my family is not and will not be directly involved in events in the Wizarding World – this time I will ensure it – and this circumstance allows me to delve into my books and the numerous Prophets in my possession. Thus far I have confirmed that only the Longbottom household was attacked by Voldemort and his followers on Halloween 1981 and the surrounding days, so it appears that there is no substitute for the fate of our version of the Longbottoms – yet I am slightly wary of this assessment as they were not mentioned in any of our history books explicitly._

_It is also apparent that Neville either enjoys the spotlight more than you ever did or Rita Skeeters is more likely to create articles surrounding him, fortunately for us these articles, amongst others, indicate that the events of our 1__st__ and 2__nd__ years went similar; though the Basilisk isn't mentioned, just that Slytherin's monster was put to a stop so we may have to investigate that further once/if we return to Hogwarts. It appears that no one escaped from Azkaban last, which is a silver lining as it may mean that no one innocent was locked up, but at some stage maybe we should go through the Ministry archives and double check, it couldn't hurt could it? _

_I also went through my diaries, and it is certain that this version of myself has no friends. Instead it appears I through myself into books and vanity – hence the nails you witnessed earlier today. It seems the troll incident never happened here, or if it did it happened to someone else and I didn't write about it. I wrote about the two of you as well – the only other Gryffindors who weren't included in a group. However, it looks as if we never bonded over this due to my shyness and lack of people skills, Dagan seemingly never getting over the abrasive personality he had at the start of first year and Primus was hovered over by his two sisters, Hazel more so but Viola on occasion as she was forced to take responsibility for you by your parents and sister according to numerous arguments of inadvertently overheard._

_I hope this information is useful and I will continue to investigate current affairs, though it might require a trip to Diagon Alley. I am missing you both very much and hope to be reunited once more soon._

_Lots of Love,_

_Aurela _

_OoOoOoOoO_

_Dear Primus and Aurela,_

_Everything at the Burrow is extremely strange. I mean I longed to have it back, but this isn't the same as before. It's noisy and overcrowded just like before (anywhere the twins, now triplets, are seems to automatically assure this) but it's not right. This isn't the household I was born to. Molly still yells at everyone and feeds anything that stays still long enough; and Fred and George, and now Eric, create mayhem, but now Percy isn't here to lecture everyone on cauldron bottoms or what the Minister said. I didn't realise how important he was until he was completely gone. I mean there isn't even the resentment of him leaving present._

_Arthur still works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department in the Ministry, not exactly a good strategic point to work from but a toehold in the Ministry if absolutely necessary. As far as I can tell without straight out asking, Bill still works with Gringotts and Charlie with Dragons in Romania – both could be strategic points for us to utilise in the future though probably not at the moment. _

_Ginny may no longer be easily swayed to help us out if needed; she's practically been ignoring me or lashing out verbally whenever I'm in her presence. She also talks non-stop about Neville and some boy named Michael and Viola's often added in there for good measure – so perhaps they're friends. If so if we could befriend just one of them and we may be able to get thee lot on our side for the upcoming war… unless we wanted to be a separate force, as I know both Primus and I will not follow the likes of Dumbledore._

_Wishing we never parted,_

_Dagan _

**OoOoOoOoO**

After writing out each letter twice the three sent off their owls. As Harry had predicted Hermione lamented the forthcoming agony which was training, but could see the importance so planned for it the following morning, as did her two lovers. The question of the morality of their actions in assuming their alternate selves bodies proved to multifaceted for any of them to make a judgment, and so they resolved to speak on it at length the next time they met.

It was with restless minds and heavy hearts that the three went to bed. Sending waves of sleepiness, love and calm across the link to attempt to make up for the lack of physical contact. A futile activity, but they had to at least try.

Their first proper night in the new world would be met with fitful sleep as they wrestled with nightmares of their past, waking both themselves and each other up several times through the night. Despite this slight inconvenience, they could not help but be thankful to have each other's support through these moments, for it was highly unlikely anyone else would even have an inkling of their suffering. 

**AN: So how did that one go? Sorry again about the lack of plot but I'm just trying to orientate the readers to this new world and its contexts and character and I promise there will be plenty of action in the future if all goes to plan. I feel as though I'm skipping past Ron, but in my mind he gets straight to the point and doesn't play around with wording and questioning situations – hence him being able to take control and have a clear view of what to do in a crisis. Again if you have any comments on the story and where it's going please review. **


	7. Chapter 6 - Visitors

**Chapter 6 – Visitors **

_The street was both unfamiliar and familiar as they ran along it, sides aching as they struggled to breathe through the heavy smoke and traces of dark magic. The mixed recognition of the scene being a familiar sensation to them as when only one of them was acquainted with the scene or situation, in this instance it was Hermione. She headed the group as she charged ahead to the end of the ruined street; her boys flanked her as she took the spearhead taking over Harry's usual position as he took hers; defending her back as she ploughed through the destruction and the remaining Death Eaters. Tears welled up in her eyes as it became clear that the fire originated from her childhood home._

_The smell of burning flesh, plastic and wood reached them seconds before the screaming. The scream of the tortured. They had all grown uncomfortably well acquainted with the screams associated with the cruciatus curse through the course of the war. The agonising screams that held no words, this somehow made it even worse than if they were pleading. The screams suddenly cut off. _

"_Dead," the three all realised as one, the monosyllabic echoing across their bond emphasising the finality that the word represented. They would mourn later. An agonised scream from Hermione and an avalanche of grotesque images signalled her approach to her childhood home. _

_The charred remains still had stubborn flames licking the support beams in a sickly manner as they slowly crumbled before Hermione's eyes. The bodies of her parents were strung from the two street lights close to the home. They swung morbidly back and forth in a non-existent breeze, their unseeing eyes surveying the scene. _

"_NOOOO!" screamed Hermione as she channelled her grief and anger into attacking any remaining Death Eaters in the area as they started to apparate out, their satisfied laughter echoing through the area as the remains of the DA and order of the Phoenix began to appear at the scene. As the threat disappeared the three moved together to over support to each other as hurt, pain, grief and guilt began to overwhelm them._

As one the trio woke up clutching at their sheets, gasping for fresh air devoid of the scent of death and the darkest of magic, tears running unashamedly down their faces. Once they had established their location an acute sense of need almost overwhelmed them all. This was the longest they had been apart in years and the added stress of the forming bond and relieving of one of the most scaring days of the entire war set them on edge. However, they tempered the urge to simply run away together as in the long run their current plan was integral to preventing their past from repeating. So with heavy hearts they prepared themselves for their morning training, the pre-dawn light allowing them to pretend that their partners were just out of eyesight getting ready as well.

Training was an essential component of their plan as they needed to return to their previous physical peak in order to be of any use to themselves or this world. Despite the fact she hated it, even Hermione had to admit its importance. As they snuck out of their respective houses feelings of confidence mingled with a comfort linked to routine permeated the bond as they prepared themselves for something they were familiar with and, in the case of the boys, usually enjoyed.

All of them were rudely surprised by their ineptness.

In their previous experiences with war and life in the Wizarding world, running was almost as important as being able to fight. More so if the added fittest and endurance it gave them allowing them to gain the upper hand over their skilled enemies was taken into account. If worse came to worse the ability to run to a safer place was vital and irreplaceable. That none of them could now complete a basic one kilometre circuit without succumbing to exhaustion about half way through was testament to how far their bodies had improved from their younger bodies and the comfortable lifestyles their alternate selves had enjoyed until now.

Ron faired the best, as the Weasley children spent most of their childhood outside playing around the Burrow, partly because they could not afford many of the expensive indoor toys but mainly as a way for Molly to get them out from under her feet. Harry only managed to endure it for as long as he did due to his sheer stubbornness and strength of will pushing him on, yet it could not fully compensate for a lifetime of being coddled; for the first time in his existence Harry found himself being thankful for the Dursleys treating him the way they did – at least that way he had learnt the art of running and dodging at a young age. Hermione barely managed to keep up her desired pace to the end of her street, her body whilst not overweight was more accustomed to sitting and reading not cardio activity, added to this was her hatred of the activity herself and her failure was almost inevitable.

It was with red faces and muffled pants that the three snuck back into their respective bedrooms, thankfully unnoticed. Over the bond worry was prominent; though determination snuck in through Harry, optimism through Ron and resignation through Hermione. For what seemed eternity they lay gazing out their windows, watching the sun rise and basking in the completeness and unity the bond provided them with.

Harry was still revealing in the bliss of the bond as he meandered down the hall towards the kitchen and the smell of fresh toast. As he went he could not help but study the array of family photographs scattered along the hall, he had looked at them before yet he was drawn to study them in detail.

Innocent smiles and sparkling eyes stared back at his own haunted expression, which looked too old for the face which was carrying it. These innocent children had known nothing of hardship or struggle a familiar urge to protect overcame him as he vowed to protect them from them from the oncoming horrors – his hero complex had never left him despite any and all efforts on behalf of Ron and Hermione, in fact, if anything, it had rubbed off on them, especially when the bond came into fruition. This family, moving in long held patterns with barely a single frown among them, symbolised all that he had never had and all he had lost; and for that reason alone he would do anything and everything to protect them.

A picture placed inconspicuously on a small wooden table grabbed Harry's attention and totally enthralled him. It was the very same wedding picture that he had first identified Sirius in and had spent many hours memorising in the lonely hours spent at Privet Drive. It was exactly the same. The same repeating movements, the light blush on his mother's face, the wide beam lighting up his father's face, Sirius equally joyous by his side. Everyone was there; nothing had changed in this one captured moment of the past.

This struck him more than anything else had in this unfamiliar world. These were the parents he never had and whilst they were not truly his parents, and they were still strangers to him as they had been in the past, he would ensure that they never died for him again for whatever reason. If this small piece of the world was the same surely the course they were on now would lead to preventing the horrible future that may occur, no matter the changes they made by knowing the tentative future surely nothing could be as bad as what they had witnessed in their own.

This proved to be a dangerous train of thought as he plunged into memories of watching Neville being slaughtered in front of him as he ran forward to slay Nagini, the final task Harry had given him. The spell from Bellatrix's wand cutting him down, mere moments before success. The blood had sprayed everywhere. Cries of anguish echoed around the courtyard as those who had stood watching rushed forward. A bloodbath had ensued.

It had been the worst experience the trio had ever suffered and still haunted their collective dreams, made worse by the amplification of the bond giving them three separate perspectives of the traumatic battle. The one in which nearly everyone had died in. Added to this was the constant questioning of their own actions, if Nagini had been destroyed then and there the war may have been finished that night instead of dragging on for another four hellish years.

"Merlin what is wrong with you?" came the piercing tone of Viola, forcefully ejecting him from his melancholy memories as he spun around narrowly avoiding drawing his wand and raising her suspicions higher, "Mum's all in a tizzy because you haven't come down for breakfast yet and I find you engrossed by pictures you've seen every day for your whole life? Anyway you better get down to the kitchen and eat, you know how mum feels about you eating when we have visitors over – even if it is just the Black's".

And with that she flounced off down the hall and into what was presumably her room, the bedroom which had been occupied by Ginny in Harry's personal past. Shaking his head, to prevent yet another morbid trail of thought, Harry ambled down the hall to the kitchen to his awaiting mother. He was accosted the moment he entered the room by both the scent of food and his mother's presence.

"Here you go honey," she said pausing in her whirlwind around the kitchen long enough to set a plate of food down in front of him, "Now be sure to eat up quickly, the Black's will be here soon and I don't want you being rude and avoiding them," her tone growing steadily sterner as she continued, culminating in her staring him down as if daring him to disagree.

With a meek nod and a small smile, Harry sat at the table and hurriedly ate the eggs on toast she had given him.

"Whoa, slow down there, mate," came James' teasing tone, as he sauntered into the kitchen placing a kiss on Lily's cheek, "I'd think you hadn't seen in days if I didn't know better."

Meekly Harry realised that he had been shovelling down his food at an alarming rate, due to his experience of being on the run he had learnt to eat what food he was given quickly before it was either taken away or they were attacked, added to the fact there simply wasn't time to eat in a civilised fashion.

'Merlin it's going to be hard pretending to be an average teenager,' Harry thought glumly as he slowed down his eating to a more sedate pace and his parents moved on to another part of the household.

As Harry made his way through the main sitting room, mentally cataloguing changes to the manor which had doubled as a Head Quarters and safe house, the floo came to life causing him to pull his wand out of its makeshift holster and take a defensive position. As Sirius stepped through, as it could be no one else despite this man's youthful, well-kept and overall joyous appearance which separated him from the Sirius, Harry had known and loved in his own dimension. Relaxing slightly Harry assumed a casual stance, though he did not replace his wand, a detail Sirius' sharp eyes picked up on.

"Hey pup, how are you going?" Sirius grinned as he scooped Harry up into a hug, reminiscent to his greeting at the start of Harry's fifth year. Harry found himself unwillingly relaxing in the comfortable grasp of his godfather, who funnily enough still wore the same brand of cologne.

When he was finally released Harry saw that the rest of what he assumed to be Sirius' family. A tall, blonde woman stood by the fireplace and a kind smile graced her beautiful features, next to her was a small girl who was the splitting image of what he supposed to be her mother. A boy who seemed to be the younger version of Sirius which Harry had seen in Snape's memories stood on her other side, a quick disinterested smile was directed at Harry when they met gazes. Before anything else could be said Viola ran into the room.

"Mum! Dad! The Blacks are here!" she yelled, seemingly overjoyed by what Harry had previously assessed as being a regular visit.

"It's good to see you to Viola," the women chuckled, as the boy stifled a laugh.

"How was France? Did you have a good time?" Viola continued excitedly, apparently the words of the women having little effect on her jubilant mood.

"It was great!" enthused the boy, "By your reaction I take it you missed me dreadfully," the boy added theatrically.

"Of course I have, I've had to endure two weeks of summer with only Harry and Hazel for company, though that only means you were missed by default! So don't go getting a big head about it Michael!" she scoffed. Michael, Harry filed the boy's name away in his developing mental profile of the people he had met so far, he also appears to be close friends with Viola.

Hazel was greeted in much the same fashion as Harry was as she appeared in the room, slightly in front of his beaming 'parents'. As the two families intermingled and caught up on the respective happenings over the last two weeks, Harry found it easy to just stand at the fringe, nodding occasionally without adding anything of interest, a stance which appear to be accepted by the gathering in general.

Whilst he was busy cataloguing those present and estimating what their role may be and simultaneously keeping tabs on any fluctuations through the bond, Harry failed to notice the piercing glance of the little girl who appeared to be carefully assessing him.

**AN: At last another chapter and the appearance of the Black family. This chapter simply refused to happen, so apologies for the wait. **

**Also there is a poll on my profile regarding the revelation of the trio's true origin so please take the time to vote as I am still figuring out the long term consequences of the revelation. **

**And as always I hoped you enjoyed the chapter and please review **


	8. Chapter 7 - Developments

**Chapter Seven - Developments**

_Meanwhile in the Department of Mysteries_

"Black, my office now," the imposing grunt of Jeremy McGuffin ordered Sylvia Black as she strolled into work on Monday morning. Knowing nothing would be deemed more important than this immediate request of the Department head, she quickly diverted her course to the office door in question, her silver grey robe fluttering mysteriously around her as she did so.

Being married to Sirius Black, a renowned trouble maker and prankster, combined with the subsequent raising of his son and working in the Department of Mysteries for over a decade had made Sylvia fairly firm in her belief that there was nothing left that could truly shock her. The briefing she would receive that morning would not be what shocked her but the findings of the mission undoubtedly would, not that she or anyone else at that moment would know.

Sylvia brushed a golden lock behind her ears as her piercing sapphire eyes assessed her boss, determining how the conversation about to occur would unfold. McGuffin merely scowled, this in itself not being a bad sign as he was always wearing a condescending scowl.

"We've had reports of strange magical flares, occurring at exactly the same time - 0600 Friday July 22nd. Now, it was only through our sensors in the respective areas of South London, Godrics Hollow and Devon that we became aware of these respective spikes magic, yet nothing has been reported. No one's complained of damage, magical backlash, nothing. The spikes were so strong that they knocked our sensors out for a total of 65 hours before they even came back online and send of an alarm," at this Sylvia's eyes grew a little wider, the only sign on her perfect poker face that she was in anyway affected by the news; "as far as we can tell there is still traces of this magic in the areas but we're having trouble pinpointing it, we have suspicions that its moving around, whether it be human, animal, spirit etcetera. I frankly don't care what it is for the moment. What I want you to do is assemble a team, find whatever is causing this disturbance, contain it if you can and harness anything that it produces which is useful. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," she said curtly rising from her seat, "If that is all?"

"Dismissed, don't let me down Black," he replied gruffly, and proceeded to return to the multitude of paperwork scattering his desk. But the possibility of failing hadn't even crossed her mind as she realized the proximity of the readings to her own home in Godrics Hollow.

**OoOoOoOoO**

Time progressed agonizingly slow for the trio, trapped as they were at the fringe in loving family homes, as the respective families could not replace the ones they had lost and wept for countless times. Each familiar phrase, scene and gesture the families committed sent jabs of pain and sorrow into the hearts of the three – the shared feelings across the bond only dampening it somewhat. Of course to deal with this, along with their uncertainty of how they would act 'normally', the three withdrew from interactions with people as much as possible and settled for watching and gathering information instead.

Hermione had a particularly hard time acclimatising to her situation as every time she looked at her childhood house and street, she could see the carnage she had been too late, too weak to prevent. The street lights outside causing her particular grief.

Her near constant paranoia and alertness served to help her gather information about the times more effectively, whilst also providing further reason to find a loop hole in the trace so they could once again use magic. She would need magic if she was ever going to defend her family; she refused to let them die again. She was also working on another plan to get them out of harm's way if war erupted as it had before, oblivating would not work as she had found out the hard way last time. It just made the Death Eaters more vicious when they did not get the information they wanted, added to the fact her parents had returned from Australia – a mistake leading to their ultimate doom, especially since she had no idea they had returned. Perhaps a safe house this time, it had saved the Dursley's lives – Hermione snorted at the injustice of it all, of all the people to survive it had to be those most against their saviours…

Pushing such negative thoughts to the back of her mind, for she should be deeply glad for any and all life that survived the apocalyptic war, she went back to the task at hand – consisting of reading through the books on wizarding laws and customs she had acquired whilst simultaneously referencing her knowledge of the trace as she searched for any available loop hole they could take advantage of.

Absentmindedly, she wandlessly summoned her bottle of water towards her from her bedside table, engrossed as she was in her research it took her several minutes to realised what she did, the moment in question punctuated with an imaginative curse. However, after half an hour in which she received no warning, the answer dawned on her.

They could do wandless magic!

A talent of which they were quite well versed with out of necessity, yet they would still need untraceable wands if they were going to engage in magic for any length of time, but this breakthrough would allow for them to achieve simple defence, tap into their elemental powers (which couldn't be achieved with a wand anyway) and undergo their animagus transformations.

Hastily, she began penning her letters to the boys.

_Dearest Primus and Dagan,_

_I have discovered a loop hole in the Trace! It does not appear to be able to detect wandless magic, thus leaving us an avenue to proceed through if we need to do magic without being detected. Though I suggest it is not done with too much frequency just in case. This also leads me to believe that the Trace itself is tied to our wands so perhaps a trip to Ollivander's is needed when we go to Diagon Ally; or perhaps one of the more shady dealers in Knockturn if he proves uncooperative._

_Animagus transformations should also go unnoticed, so we now have a way to travel without trace, especially you Primus. Yet despite my own personal excitement, I believe we should hide our talents until they are needed. There is no need to draw any unneeded attention to us and our predicament._

_I can feel the bond strengthening each day and I estimate at this rate we should be able to communicate through it by next week, just in time for Primus' birthday and the Quidditch World Cup, neither of which I will be able to attend, unless you can somehow think up a believable cover story that has so far evaded me. Regardless, I hope you two have a wonderful time together and at least pretend to try staying out of trouble, for my sake, if nothing else. Once the link is whole again we should begin making more concrete plans, as I do not wish to place all our fate in letters._

_Missing you terribly,_

_Aurela_

And with that she gave the letters to Maestro, the owl her parents used to keep in touch with her through the school year. A sigh of contentment and rustling of papers was the only sound as she moved on to further documenting any and all changes in this world, satisfied with her success in overcoming her previous task.

**OoOoOoOoO**

A sea of red hair in varying shades surrounded the modest dining table in the Burrows kitchen. The whole family was present owing to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, and at present several raucous conversations were taking place in the evening light as they ate their dinner. Molly Weasley sat at the head of the table, occasionally getting up to replace rapidly emptying dishes but for the most part basking in the joy that having the entirety of her children around the same table for a meal.

Fortunately, for this meal the triplets had not attempted to slip any of their products into unsuspecting plates and subsequent mouths, allowing for the cacophony taking place to be void of anger. Ron decided that this would be the perfect chance to quiz his father as any suspicious questions would be unlikely to be overheard and Arthur was likely to respond honestly and without too much hesitation owing to the fire whiskey he had had to accompany the meal.

"Have you heard anything about Bertha Jorkins recently, dad?" Ron questioned as he speared a potato, making eye contact just long enough to be trusted but before he became intimidated. A strange tack for Ron, as when he had been learning how to extract information he had leant heavily on his size and fearsome reputation to do most of the work for him, though he had stuck to the good guy approach as much as possible – if it had only been to appease Hermione at the time before she realised that intimidation was much more effective; and it wasn't as if he hurt his victims. Much.

"Can't say I have Ron, Ludo still refuses to launch any searches. Still insists that she's merely wandered off in the wrong direction," Arthur said easily, though as he went over what he had just divulged he narrowed his eyes slightly as he appraised his youngest son, "Why the sudden interest?"

"Well, with the upcoming Cup, I just wondered if her disappearance would disrupt the organisation or something, that's all," luckily for Ron he had already thought of a response for this line of questioning and had no problem regurgitating his response, punctuating it with mouthfuls of food. A habit he remembered from his youth and had assumed this version of himself did likewise.

So far it was working in his favour it appeared that Ludo Bagman was still Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sport and it appeared that Bertha Jorkins had been unlucky enough to run into Peter Pettigrew on her travels. It was probably too late to do anything about that. Though for the moment they had decided to let thing run their course and only interfere when they were certain it would make a positive difference, and in the long run her death would spur the return of Voldemort onto the path they expected and could deal with. And as much as he hated it, her death was beneficial for the 'Greater Good'.

Before Arthur had a chance to reply to his son two regal owls flew in through the window, a hush came over the table as everyone watched the owls wondering who the letters they carried were for. The first owl was midnight black, which Ron recognised as being the owl that had carried Hermione's previous missive, and was proved correct as one of the letters it was carrying was dropped into his lap with the precision and a matter-of-fact attitude that could only be attributed to something that Hermione owned. The neat printed script of _Dagan_ written across the envelope only served to reiterate his deduction.

"Mum, I've been invited to the Potter twins birthday this weekend," Ginny babbled excitedly, effectively differing all attention away from Ron, as she passed the letter around the table to her mother; her manner suggesting that she wasn't truly asking to go and was merely informing her mother.

"Of course you can go Ginny, dear," their mother said mildly as she read over the letter, "Oh; it says here that Ron is also invited. Isn't that nice?"

"Sure mum," Ron replied with an easy smile. Ginny however looked scandalised.

"How did you get invited? You don't have any friends! And it's not as if you could have gotten into Viola's favour without me finding out," she bit out snidely, earning herself glares from both parents.

"Actually, Ginny, I grew quite close to Harry near the end of last term. You do remember him right? Viola's twin?" Ron cut in quickly before anyone else could interrupt. He assumed a naturally defensive position in the argument, as it was after all is lover and long-time friend that Ginny was conveniently forgotten; and his temper, whilst more controlled, had only grown more fierce during the war. The remaining Weasley brothers watched in confusion as the argument escalated between the two youngest siblings, torn between confusion and pride at their brother's recently acquired backbone.

"Well we'll have to start looking for presents won't we," Molly interjected with forced cheer hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalated as it had so many times in the past. Fortunately for her, Ginny was eager to forget about any conversation pertaining to Ron and Ron simply did not care enough about the petty teenager to continue bickering.

The quick end to the argument resonated through the psyches of the Burrows' iinhabitants. Something was definitely off, but alas the plethora of dishes available soon put an end to these thoughts as the infamous Weasley appetites made themselves known.

**OoOoOoOoO**

The three awoke in the dead of night with a strange tingling resonating through their minds, similar to a headache but lacking the associated pain. Grins adorned their faces as they recognised it as the final manifestation of the bond they had initiated upon their arrival to this world. As the minutes ticked by the feeling of connectedness grew stronger and stronger as the tingling faded.

Wordless joy and feelings of completeness were the first things to saturate the bond in its completed form.

"_At last my boys, I've missed you so," _Hermione sighed across the link; she had always been possessive of them; their humour and happiness bouncing back and forth between them, increasing each time.

"_As we did love," _the other two replied simultaneously.

"_I'm so glad we connected before shit started to hit the fan,"_ Ron the ever practical tactician continued.

"_Language,"_ was the immediate automatic scold from Hermione, though her anger barely even took hold long enough to dissipate. Her joy of once again being able to immediately communicate with her lovers and not having to rely on the somewhat unreliable means of communication they had been using reverberated through the bond.

And thus they sunk into the comfort and stability associated with bond, luxuriating in the almost tangible reunion as they slipped back into their shared dreams.

**OoOoOoOoO**

The day preceding the Potter twin's birthday was met with great suspicion on Harry's and, consequently, the Trio's behalf. Logically they presumed that the sneaky and guarded movement of James and Sirius probably had something to do with a surprise or for the joint birthday party taking place the next day. Yet years of guerrilla war had taught them to listen to their instincts and none but themselves.

Inevitably, this caused Harry to subtly stalk his father and godfather throughout the day; an act that eventually brought the attention of his far too observant elder sister.

"Anything wrong Harry?" she asked innocently, as Harry busied his hands making his lunch as he listened to the activities of the men in the next room. Well it would have seemed innocent if he hadn't noted how her casual stance in the doorway effectively blocked his only exit. A development neither nor Ron or Hermione were particularly pleased with, and thusly devoted more of their minds to concentrating on the activities surrounding Harry.

"No, not at all," Harry replied in the borderline timid tones that, whilst they rebelled against his pride and personality, he had learnt this Harry had favoured, "Do you want some lunch too?"

A quick shake of Hazel's glossy locks solidified Harry's suspicions that she was trapping him in the room to interrogate him, as she notoriously never turned down any food. Especially something Harry had made due to his apparent finesse in the kitchen. Trying to dispel the feeling of unease, for realistically what threat did this inexperienced child pose to The Chosen One, the leading third of the formidable Golden Trio, but yet again logic did not help to sooth the anxieties accompanying him since the war, nor did the fact that they were trying to stay undetected in this reality for as long as possible.

"Then what are you up to?" she demanded gently, as if he would startle easily, he took the time to seat himself at the table, careful to never let her leave his periphery vision, to stall answering her question.

"Nothing?" he replied simply trying to add confusion to his tone at the urgings of Hermione. This whole meek and innocent thing was really starting to get to him, and part of Harry dearly longed to regain the position he had once held – if to merely escape having to explain himself to anyone but his lovers.

"Hmmm…" Hazel did not look convinced, "the way I see it you've been sneaking around an awful lot lately. Now I'd expect that of Viola, but you not so much. Something's changed and I'm going to figure it out." And with a swish of ebony curls she had disappeared along the hallway.

"_Well we'll have to careful around her, if she has any of your curiosity she won't let it go until she's figured out the mystery,"_ Hermione helpfully supplied.

"_If only we could simply neutralise her,"_ Ron wistfully thought to Hermione's horror.

"_Ronald! She's just a child! You would have done exactly the same thing if you were her!"_

"_Doesn't stop her being an annoying obstacle though, does it?"_

And with that the conversion descended into an argument, fuelled by the feelings of uncertainty and powerlessness of the three, and yet, all found a degree of solace in the familiarity of Ron and Hermione bickering with Harry interjecting on behalf of both sides when required.

**AN: and there you have it! Sorry for the long wait but alas real life was busy for a while. I didn't quite get up to where I wanted in this chapter but it kind of grabbed me and wrote itself.**

**Hope you enjoy and remember to review!**


	9. Chapter 8 - Plans

**Chapter Eight - Plans**

As fourteenth birthdays went, Harry felt this was much more enjoyable than his original attempt, yet was still a pain to endure. Keeping up the façade of being meek and mild, was quickly beginning to wear his patience thin and he could not wait for an opportunity to be rid of the tiresome cover – but everything had to be in place before that could happen. Hence, it was with a somewhat shy smile and impeccable manners, which barely showed any strain, that he greeted the guests and accepted presents. Starkly contrasting with the manner of his twin sister, whose rambunctious behaviour seemed to be everywhere at once, as she flitted excitedly around the Potters' expansive lawn.

"Happy Birthday mate," murmured Ron's gentle voice, a slight tremor indicating its impending breaking, as he handed over a neatly wrapped present with a wry grin. The carefully concealed joy at being near each other breaking for only seconds as they stared lovingly into each other eyes, an exchange noticed by none, save for Hazel who had been keeping a very close eye on her brother since the interaction the day before.

"_Quite a shindig they've put together, but then I guess it's not every day you turn twenty three,"_ Ron continued across the bond, his playful mocking emotions evident, "_though despite my not attending a party for many a year, it does not appear to be very age appropriate,"_ he continued while scrutinizing many coloured balloons and children running around, playing magical party games.

"Thanks, glad you could make it" replied Harry aloud, "_Prat, you know I couldn't exactly have a piss up _we're_ meant to be acting like fourteen year olds. And I don't know about you but I am not enjoying it."_

"_Well I'm finding myself particularly fond of bedtime personally_," supplied Ron, his poker face nearly failing as they separated to talk to others so as to not draw attention to their closeness, their conversation could of course continue, as they had learnt early on to multitask within their minds, a feat that becomes easy when you have three independent minds to work across.

"_You know, it's times like these that I actually miss the Dursleys," _

"_Why on earth would you miss your crazy relatives?" _Hermione interjected before Ron had a chance.

"_Well for one if my remembrance of my last fourteenth birthday is any indication, I wouldn't have been expected to continue this charade in for so long, I could just stayed up in Dudley's second bedroom or even run away and they would have been thankful," _Harry replied simply while discussing the merits of the Transfiguration book he had received with Remus, "_this is seriously starting to wear me down, I need to do something."_

"_Harry, you know we agreed not to blow our cover until we have a definite plan and even then only if absolutely necessary. We haven't gotten the trace free wands or any definite indication of where to start. Added to this we could be locked up or decreed insane, remember what we did was highly illegal and we're planning on meddling with time to boot,"_ the shrill tone of Hermione's tone reminiscent of their earlier childhood, when detention was something to be feared upon all else.

"_Relax Hermione," _Ron interjected, as he gorged himself at the snack table under the glowering gaze of Ginny, "_they should be forever thankful to us if we manage to prevent the horrors to come. Anyway I vote that we should start hunting horcruxes soon, the sooner the better especially if we run the risk of them being located elsewhere or being different all together."_

"_Can we even be sure that there are horcruxes?"_ questioned Hermione, a small part of her desperately wishing to avoid another year in a tent.

"_Don't worry love, we can hunt in style this time,"_ replied Ron mischievously picking up on her undercurrent thoughts.

"_Tents aside, I think we can be reasonably sure that they exist, due to Neville bearing the lightning scar," _as if this acted as a prompt both Ron and Harry's gaze zeroed in on said scar as Neville talked animatedly to Michael and Viola, "_added to that is despite the initial differences between the dimensions, I feel that Voldemort would have still embarked upon that path"_

This version of Neville was more confident than the version they were used to, but they couldn't help but feel a pull of protectiveness towards their old friend who had so often needed their help in the past. As if feeling their stares' he plastered on his trademark smile and turned in their direction, evidently more comfortable with the fame and recognition than Harry ever was.

"_I suppose there's no harm in checking known locations; even if there's not a horcrux there's a chance something else important to Voldemort is hidden there," _Hermione conceded with a sigh.

"_Excellent,"_ the boys said in unison as they dove into planning their next move.

**XxXxXxXxX**

Meanwhile, Sylvia Black was having a remarkably less enjoyable time. Oh she was pleased to be celebrating the birthday of two of her godchildren, but the metallic bracelet that her and her team had fashioned to detect the strange magical spikes had been buzzing and heating up like crazy since her arrival. Whilst she was pleased to find it worked, it was practically useless when it came to pinpointing the site, merely recognizing the source if it was within a twenty kilometre radius.

Someone or something nearby was responsible for the erratic bursts of magic.

She couldn't even eliminate any of the party guests, as owing to her husband and son's ridiculous grooming habits, they had been one of the last to arrive, excepting the Weasley's who were notorious for their lack of punctuality. She would have to ask Lily for a guest list later in order to start screening the people present.

With a weary sigh she plastered a bright smile upon her face and returned to mingling with the other adults present. All the while trying to ignore the urge to fiddle with the bracelet adorning her wrist, as it continued incessantly vibrating.

**XxXxXxXxX**

A game of Quidditch was organised to take place directly before the cake and subsequent present opening. The whole experience was quite a surreal experience for Harry and Ron, as previously both had been highly sought after to be on any informal Quidditch team, and were now being treated as the last dregs. Somehow this only added to their recently acquired cheery moods as they subjected each other to harmless ribbing about how they had been letting themselves go.

"Think we'll need a bottle of Felix?" murmured Harry to Ron.

"You might, but I haven't ever needed anything of the sort," Ron chuckled; Harry merely rolled his eyes in response as they fondly recalled their sixth year.

When they were finally allotted, onto separate teams, their competitiveness spiked – a reaction met with amusement and slight aggravation on Hermione's part, though she could not deny them this little bit of fun. She had never quite grasped what was so fantastically tremendous about Quidditch; even sharing a mind with two Quidditch fanatics did little to advance her hesitant fondness for the game.

"Any particular position you'd like Harry? It's your birthday after all," Michael asked wearily, as if sensing an impending loss.

"Seeker," Harry replied without hesitation. A response met by a look of defeat on Michael's face, apparently for Harry's counterpart seeking hadn't been a particular strong point. Focusing in on Ron whilst the rest of his team was decided, it was discovered much to Harry's amusement that Ron had been allotted Keeper, as the team felt that through their Chasers and Beaters he shouldn't have to worry about much.

"_Ha, we're being regarded as liabilities! This is fun,"_ Harry cheerfully announced across the bond.

"_Only you, Mr Chosen One, could view being regarded as a liability as something positive,"_ Ron commiserated.

"_Think we should act out of character just for this game, surely we can just say we've been secretly practicing or something," _it was clear to all that Harry was looking forward to displaying his Quidditch skills, something he had viewed as his first main achievement in the Wizarding World.

"_Just this once. You're lucky you've got that mental puppy dog eyes down to a t," _Hermione said with a great deal of suffering one can only truly gain with experience in restraining overactive boys.

And with that the teams took the air. It was to Harry's great joy that he was going up against Viola in the opposing Seeker's position – her arrogant confidence ensuring to Harry that he would most definitely be the one to catch the snitch first.

**XxXxXxXxX**

As the game above started Lily Potter watched from below, her emerald eyes, so startlingly similar to her son's, gleaming with joy and pride. It made her heartache with relief that Harry was being so accepted into the group, even though it was his party. She had learnt long ago that her little boy just didn't fit in.

Always quiet and sensitive, a cute little thing that would bring his sisters and mother flowers, always had time for a cuddle, tried so hard to keep up with his father and twin yet could never quite find it in himself to be boisterous or devious enough. Lily had been happy with that, merlin knew that she couldn't cope with two trouble makers; she had been so happy and proud of her little family even with the war raging outside and the prophecy looming over Harry.

Everything had become so much more marvellous when the war had ended. Neville the decide victim of the prophecy, and while she would never admit it aloud he was glad her own little boy had been spared the cursed fate. They had lived in bliss for almost six years. But in the evening of the seventh of September 1987 her perfect world had shattered.

She could remember it like it was yesterday, her baby boy stumbling out of the forest that surrounded the extensive lawns, in inconsolable tears and shrieks. It was the last time he had been loud. His clothes torn and covered in mud, scratches covered his cherub face. It had been hours until he had calmed down enough to even listen to her.

Ever since that day he had become a shadow of himself, the worst part was that no one knew why. He never spoke of the event. Not to her, not to James, not to his godparents, siblings or doctors. Her baby boy scared into muteness for almost a year. He was almost nine by the time he uttered a whole sentence again.

It caused her family to collapse around her.

James felt like a failure for not being able to protect his only son, the sole heir to the ancient and noble house of Potter; he didn't understand how to interact with this fragile, quiet boy when he himself had always been a tornado of energy and mischief.

Hazel had merely increased her maternal attitude towards Harry; she had always adored the quieter of the twins, who would play tea parties for hours on end just to keep her happy, after the 'incident' she had merely given herself over to her protective maternal instincts and aided Lily in a vain attempt to cushion him against the rest of the world.

Viola had been the main issue. At seven years old, she had been unable to understand the severe change in her brother, who had been a constant presence in her life. Her reaction had been to try to force him to continue as if nothing had happened, and when he was unable she grew angry and condescending; Tears and tantrums had been caused by her inability to understand the change in her Harry, causing him grief as he had only ever sought to make those around him happy. Only causing the situation to worsen. This, of course, had led to her parents' anger being directed at her for perpetuating the problem ultimately leading to an unbridgeable chasm between the twins.

Lily herself had felt herself pulled between her children, trying to treat them equally but being repeatedly drawn to her damaged son; who seemed to need her more than the others. Her guilt of seemingly abandoning her other children warred with her guilt of smothering Harry. But she simply couldn't change her ways. Not until she was sure that Harry could face the world without her and recover from whatever had happened.

Whilst both her daughters had excelled socially, academically and at almost everything else they had applied themselves to, Harry had remained in the background. Never failing yet not quite excelling, completely mediocre. Without any close friends, though Hazel had informed them that he was at least fondly tolerated by other boys in his dormitory. It was as if he was aiming to be invisible. Perhaps he was.

But Lily could never forget her only son, and his attempts at being nondescript coupled with his fragility had only enhanced her need to coddle – despite knowing deep down that she really shouldn't. However that had changed over the last month, she couldn't pin it down to one moment but he had changed. A little more backbone, leaving the house voluntarily on occasion, adding snippets to conversations; things only a parent could notice. James had noticed too, and like her was tentatively joyed by the change. Daring to hope that, perhaps, their precious baby boy would no longer be weighed by the traumatic events of his past.

A quick glance at James' jubilant face as he watched their son fly with ease they had never previously seen. The pride evident of an almost forgotten past where, the proud father of three; would insist that his son would grow up to be a Quidditch legend.

**XxXxXxXxX**

As Harry and Ron soared through the sky - half their minds paying attention to the game, the other half luxuriating in the feeling of flying for fun as opposed to fleeing from death – they continued their back and forth banter and scheming for what they wished to occur within the game. A quick assessment between the two determined that most of their years Gryffindor was here, bar Hermione, as well as several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

"_Seems like house unity worked better here," _Ron noted absently.

"_That'll come in handy if we need to enlist help later,"_

"_Let's hope we don't. Look at them, so sweet and innocent. Not a care in the world outside Quidditch and friends. I remember most of their bodies scarred or strewn across the floor dead,"_ and as Ron's thoughts turned more macabre images of blood and death circled the link.

Hannah Abbot missing her left arm…

Neville's glassy eyes staring unseeingly at them as Nagini swallowed his legs…

Ginny dripping with blood as she dodged hexes, only to be hit by an Avada Kedavra from behind…

Lavender Brown's perfect face ripped apart by Greyback's claws…

Luna's left leg missing as she hobbled around, helping the other wounded…

Parvati and Padma locked in a final embrace as the inferno closed in around them…

Remus locked away in a silver cage with the other 'traitorous' werewolves, slowly being burned to death…

"_STOP_!" screamed Hermione both aloud and in her mind. Breaking down slightly at the renewed memories, which she had been trying so hard to block. Abruptly the images stopped, replaced by slight guilt from Ron and sympathy from Harry – both almost as agonised as her but concealing it better.

"_We have to make sure that never happens again. Even if it's the last thing we do."_ Hermione continued sternly. An order. Not a question. Hermione had so infrequently given direct orders during the war, that any she did deem to give were followed to letter by her bond mates, this was no different.

"_Aren't I the one who's meant to have the saving people complex?" _Harry joked lightly, his acceptance radiating to the others as his attention slowly returned to the game at hand, debating whether to catch the snitch now or wait for the rest of the teams to wear themselves out – he was no longer in the mood to put up with rowdy teenagers.

"_Well the way I see it, this doesn't change much. We would have fought against this Voldemort anyway because we would never be able to settle down peacefully or live with the consequences. If we start hunting and destroying horcruxes now by the time the crackpot is resurrected in May he'll be mortal. Neville can beat him and get the fame, while we slink into obscurity and live happily ever after in a cottage surrounded by marigolds," _Ron theorised, completely serious.

"_I think I'd prefer roses," _Hermione added dreamily, caught up in the fantasy forever after, she had never been able to stomach the war. She would fight, bravely and lethal, but she would not encourage or seek out a fight.

"_This means we've got to go back to Hogwarts doesn't it? At least for the diadem anyway,"_ Harry added grouchily

"'_Fraid so Primus, shouldn't be too bad. Anyway having a base at Hogwarts could prove strategically favourable if something were to go wrong, I mean, it was an unconquerable fortress until Voldemort had complete control throughout the Wizarding World," _Ron tried vainly to convince Harry, but he himself wasn't in complete favour of returning to school.

"_We'd also have access to the library,"_ Hermione added cheerfully, thinking of all the titles which could come in useful to their mission. With a roll of his eyes Harry zoomed forward to catch the snitch, ending the game with a victory to his side – much to the ire of his sister.


End file.
